


Monday

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16299305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: tiny prompt: It's raining and someone's late to work.





	Monday

She shakes the umbrella on the steps and manages to splatter Agent Callenberg’s suit jacket. He brushes the droplets off with a precise flicking motion that suggests to her an unshed rage about something larger than October rain. She’s not willing to ask him if he’s all right, so she nods an apology and folds the offending weapon’s wings back and rushes in to the Hoover Building in the crowd.

The bag in her hand was crisp and hot when she left the bakery. Now it’s a soggy mess and she can see the brown paper thinning against the pastries, transparent with grease and rain. As she descends in the elevator, hot with Monday morning bodies, she feels her hair frizzing. She runs her lips around her mouth and catches Agent DiDonato leering at her. She shifts on her heels and half-turns away, only to butt up against Agent Callenberg’s wet suit. He tips his head forward with a smug smile. What’s the disciplinary outcome for clocking a fellow agent with a briefcase?

The doors sigh open and they leave her alone for the last floor. She opens the bag and peeks inside. Two ham and cheese croissants melted together, crescent ends cracked, pastry flaking off. She walks to the office, turns the handle and pushes the door open with her hip.

He’s leaning back in his chair, pencil wedged behind his ear, feet crossed on the desk, smirk plastered across his face. She drops the umbrella in the empty waste paper basket at the door. It falls forward and spills the wet contents over her shoes. Mulder’s laughter rolls around the room. Someone’s perky.

“You’re late, Agent Scully.”

She sucks in a sharp breath and deposits the pastries on the desk. “I am aware of that, Agent Mulder.”

“But you might just redeem yourself with these breakfast delights,” he says, ripping the bag open. “Or maybe not. Scully, these croissants look like they’ve been run over by an 18 wheeler truck.”

She flops into the chair and folds her arms. “Redemption is off the table then?”

He waggles his eyebrows as he passes her, spinning her chair round to face the door. He kicks it shut, rights the bin, props the umbrella against the wall.

“Mulder?”

He unknots his tie and flings it over the coat hanger. His sleeves are rolled up and she watches the muscles in his forearms flex. “You didn’t even bring coffee, Scully. What am I going to do with you?”

Her chest tightens and she feels her nipples scrape the confines of her bra cups. “Well,” she says, shucking off her jacket so his eyes fall to her breasts, “I’m sure you’ll think of a suitable punishment.”

He sinks to his knees in front of her, smile playing on his beautiful mouth. His hands cover her knees and he holds them there for a moment too long. The way his tongue darts out between his lips leaves her breathless. One hand rises and takes a slow stretch to her cheek where he lifts wet strands of her hair and tucks them behind her ear. Her face burns and his lightens with delight.

“There’s nothing else for it, then,” he says, standing up as quickly as he knelt. “I’ve prepared a slideshow. There are 56 slides. I’ve been waiting for half an hour to start. Are you ready?”

He flicks off the light and she allows herself to breathe. Death by slideshow. He’s chuckling to himself. Arrogant bastard.

“I was going to wish you a happy birthday, Mulder,” she says. “But I don’t think I’ll bother now.”

He pushes a croissant over the desk to her and pouts. “Thank you, Scully. You can give me my other present later.”

The first slide clunks into place and she dips her head to take a bite of the soft, warm pastry, hiding her welling smile.


End file.
